Someone on the radio this morning reported that, due to the hurricane, the summer driving season, and other factors, gas prices in at least one area could soar to as high as $3.50 a gallon. Prices are supposedly going to go back down after Labor Day, but I doubt they’ll drop too much. Hey, maybe Wayan’s on to something with that whole bike-riding thing.

After a night at Twisted Sister Karaoke at the Reef, I came home to a treat courtesy of my housemate: Porn on the telly. Yes, tits, ass, and much moaning greeted me as I opened the door to my home. Nice.

While it might be called “Twisted Sister Night” at the Reef, glam metal karaoke does not really live up to its name. To start with there wasn’t any Twisted Sister, a travesty that cannot be readily recovered from. Then, with only two Motley Crue songs, and one Telsa song, it went downhill fast. With that limited selection folks did the best they could.

A hottie whipped out “Carry on my wayward son” by Kansas, complete with swank microphone moves and then a brother sang Bel Biv DeVoe’s “Do Me” to the delight of many, including a lighter toting hottie who almost caught my Aquanet hair on fire. Once “Heaven” by Warrant came on, it signaled the end of Hair Metal Karaoke.

Next came more R&B, and I fled. Next time, I would suggest ten items to make your Twisted Sister Karaoke Night rock out:

10: Twisted Sister songs – “We’re not gonna take it anymore” comes to mind
09: Miller High Life – which was out on this visit
08: A lighter for those power ballads
07: Ear plugs for those who cannot sing
06: Liquid courage, better known as alcohol
05: Good air guitar skills for “Stairway to heaven”
04: Vans and acid-washed jeans, headband optional
03: Rhythm, or at least some singing ability
02: Your drunk friends as chorus
01: An actual band for backup

As if it weren’t bad enough that the Orioles keep losing, Rafael Palmeiro is running into bad luck everywhere he turns. During his first at-bat in tonight’s game, he was booed by the crowd and wound up putting in earplugs to block them out. He got zero hits out of 4 at-bats, which brings his average to .077 after 2 hits in 26 at-bats. Dude, I hit better than that.

Interestingly, the Post’s website’s link to the article about the game says “Orioles Win Over Blue Jays, 7-2.” Not so much, webmaster.

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At this point it’s pretty clear that nothing will be left when, and if, we return. Right now water is probably up to the roof of our Mid-City house, which I bought last year. Knowing this, the questions in my head are about the future of my job, where I will stay if I choose to return, and of course, how long it will be before any sense of normalcy returns to my life. It will probably be years. I’m seriously considering the option of giving it all up and starting anew somewhere else. Given the heartache that’s going to follow, and the reality that a repeat of this event could happen someday, it’s something worth thinking about.

WWL is reporting that residents of Jefferson Parish may not be allowed back in for over a month:

Residents will probably be allowed back in town in a week, with identification only, but only to get essentials and clothing. You will then be asked to leave and not come back for one month.

We may be getting soaked in a bit thanks to the storm-formerly-known-as-Hurricane-Katrina, but the folks down in the Big Easy are still trying to drain their city from several feet of water. DCist pointed out this benefit happy hour happening on Thursday:

Back in the day, when I lived in Dupont Circle, the parking lot across the street from my house was always a haven for late night bootie action. I’m not talking K Street ho’s now, but consenting adults enjoying themselves old-school style by making out in their cars.

Resembling a drive in movie, sans the movie, it was fun to sit in my second floor window and count the cars a-rocking. Now it seems that folks can’t even wait long enough to walk from 17th Street to the Church Street parking lot.